


Roasting Tories

by mapledrink



Category: SOMETHINGSOMETHING
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-09-07
Packaged: 2018-04-06 10:01:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4217409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mapledrink/pseuds/mapledrink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>bLEHELEBLEH<br/>trudtien. a crack of shawnooofican</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [my son justeen true doughdough](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=my+son+justeen+true+doughdough).



//It was another day, another Queen's pen. How weird thing it was, being in a weird line of work such as this.  
He'd spent ages learning the native tongue, provincially not for the better of Quebec of course, but federally for the better of all of Canada:  
He already knew one language (french) fluently but eh, Cabinet Minister Pierre was helping  
him brush up a bit more English.

Speaking of Pierre Eliotte, a man he'd endorsed throughout most his political career--

a man he figured was a man worth following... He remembered to mention something.

"Eh, Mister Trudeau." Cabinet member chretien mumbled, tapping his shoulder. "I trust in  
you to take it home and show these scrumptious, fool-tories whose boss, no?"

Pierre smiled back at him funny. 

It was a tiring night at the parliament building-- eh, sure it was. It was like rolling 

wheels all day. or however that phrase went. Jean knew it.

Jean was fumbling at his tie until some things fell out of his pockets and

onto the ground and whatnot. (design maps of all things of his failed,  
hidden first career practice) He stood up to find a familiarly snickering man under the nearest lamp post.

Jean's awkward smile twitched at a side of his mouth as he met eyes with those of cloudy blues.

"Eh, papa Chretien always said I couldn't 'ave been an Architect."

Jean's eye kept twitching in embarrassment, quickly shoving them in his Trench coat. Jeans father always had said a lot of things.

The more soft-spoken Canadian politician gave a faint laugh and offered to help Jean pick up those past dreams of his.

"Jean, would you like to get some Chinese with me? Ah, perhaps you’d like to spend an evening with me?"//

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- pt2 V

"So, y'know-- Rene Leveque was threatening me yesterday-- not a very good tactic if you ask me, " The Shawinigan-Born brawler forked a cabbage roll into his mouth. "but ykno, if  
that's the way he wants to play it, fight fire with fire, no?" He wagged his fork in the air and forked another. "But eh I ain't gonna get down and dirty." 

"Mhmmmm.. " Trudeau stirred his chop sticks in the green wasabe paste, eyes glazing over Mister Chretien's roughened, pretty features.  
"Well, he can fight if he's got it, then lets see how much fight he's got in him." Pierre gave his signature shrug.  
"--But not to worry or anything-- not that you worry at all, do you, Chretien?" 

 

and the brawn chretien smiled broadly at this, giving a little shrug of his own. "Meh. Oh but  
I know the hecklers love your name, Pierre.~"

 

"Oh God.. " The Justice Minister laughed.

"A smooth name that is. Pierre. Other than ChretIEN." The minister of indian affairs enunciated with a spit.

"Now, now, Mister Chretien-- is that any way to treat a distinguished, talented man at his shtick such as yourself?" Pierre winked pleasantly.

Jean was taken aback. "your so much better at words than me, Pierre." He smiled in a coo, grinning. 

Not that he always did, but he just smirked in a way that just fitted his cast down eyes and whatnot.

"Oh come on now, --" 

Pierre twirled his finger ontop of the surface of Jean Chretien's greater palm.

"Try me.~"

 

2becontinued


	2. Tabernac!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jeandeau

"Jean." Adressed Pierre.

"Oui, Prime Minister?"

"I'll pay, I hope you don't mind."

"Non non, we'll split the bill!"

"Please,.~ I hope you don't mind splitting a bedroom as well.""

And with a few broken laughs and fortune cookies here & there, they emptied the resturaunt and went out into the cold.

 

Walking with his hands shoved in his coat, Jean hovering above the prime minister with his slight superior height as he smiled weakly.

The prime minister yawned. "I must say, you're doing quite well with that new park, Jean. More so than any indian affairs minister before you."

The cold Montreal snowflakes fell down on their clothes quite lightly, Jean scratching the back of his head again.

"Thank you, boss."

"Not to mention, financing the Treasury Board. Jean, your the best thing that's happened since sliced bread."

"Eh, I try. Um, Pierre, I 'ave to ask--"

"Mhmmhmm... Is this about Diefenbaker's disobedience to the french?"

"No no,.. . Eh, were you really serious about sharring a room?"

"Yes, what's the harm that could be?" Pierre smiled, opening the doors to the fanciest Montreal hotel he knew.

"I'll get an escort to drive you back to Shawnigan in the morning. Hopefully you can bear with me for the night."

Jean smiled. Whatta privilege to be had between colleagues.

\----

And what a Planes, Trains and Automobiles mishap that this was.

 

Pierre really meant it when he said share a bed.

 

A big king-sized mattress, (big enough for the king of Quebec), lay in front of them.

 

Jean dropped his bags dramatically.

 

"What a scandal this will be! Tabernac!"

"Jean, Jean, Please, I'll take care of everything."

The Prime Minster swiftly fell on the bed, giggling rather childishly.

Jean's eye twitched as he slowly picked up his bags and sat onto the side.

And to think a 35 year old affairs minister would be sleeping with a 49 year old prime minister.

 

"We'll see about that, boss..."


End file.
